Becoming Q
by Midnight12reader
Summary: As Q's head slammed into the side of the table, the only thing he saw, other than stars, was Bond coming at him like the wrath of God. The story of a relationship built on shattered illusions and new beginnings.
1. Becoming Q

**A.N.** This fiction is the first story in my series Becoming Q. It works as either a stand alone piece or as a prologue to later parts. Later parts and stand-alone pieces will be posted (in chronological order) as they are written as additional chapters to this work.

Summary: Transitions are rarely smooth at MI6. Some less so than others.

Becoming Q

by Midnight12reader

The massive punch of pain, terror, the overwhelming, consuming _fear_ of it all hit with the weight of a battering ram against his senses. It was almost enough to send him to his knees, crashing against his shields in waves with all the force of a sledgehammer against plaster. Only his iron fisted control, hard won, kept him on his feet at all.

Well, that and not an insignificant amount of pride. It wasn't enough, however, to keep his head from spinning or his vision from going hazy around the edges at the overwhelming amount of _feeling_. And it was pride, more than anything else at that moment, that kept him from blacking out. As the first wave hit his shields, he vaguely felt the building shake on it's foundations at the force of what appeared to be, if he had to guess, an explosion. The lights flickered once, twice, before dying out altogether. It was only a moment before the emergency lighting kicked in, leaving the room bathed in an eerie blue haze.

Ryan took a moment to simply breathe, the soft inhales and exhales echoing in the empty space, before slowly reaching up and removing the prescription safety glasses now perched precariously on his nose. He deftly set them aside with a muffled click, face blank in what he could self diagnose as a minor case of shock. Joy. He calmly picked up his regular pair and slide them into place with practiced motions.

Staring ahead, mind slightly numb but working to reboot, he slowly turned to face the reinforced door. He paused for a moment, turning back and unstrapping a small hand gun from its nesting place under the counter of the testing booth. Unthinkingly checking it's status, and sliding an extra clip into a spare pocket, he turned back to the door. You never knew, he thought idly, when a trigger would have to be pulled, but best be prepared either way. He smirked, his lips quirking up at the corners. Most would think him incapable. They would be wrong.

The thing he remembers most, thinking back on that day, isn't the dead bodies scattered across the floor as he had stepped out of the heavily fortified room, or the fires that had sprung up in the bomb's wake, but the silence. It was the silence that blanketed the whole event that had had him spurring himself to action after all, that had finally cleared away the final cobwebs that had blanked his mind. He thought it rather obvious really, and he wondered why none of the other staff that appeared to be wondering around in a fog had reached the same conclusion. No clamoring sirens, no insistent alerts equaled no standing security, equaled no guarantee that this wasn't only the first act in a greater scheme.

Ryan picked up his pace considerably after that, leaving the checking of the downed personnel to the other agents, as he strode quickly down and through the labyrinth of halls, absently tucking the gun into the small of his back and pulling a small contraption of his pocket as he went. His mind he controlled with a firm mental hand, quickly pulling his shields together and reinforcing them to the best of his now limited ability, determined to only think, and think quickly, not to feel, not now. That was something that could be pushed aside to be dealt with later, he promised himself.

He swiftly typed in a long string of code, waiting impatiently as his set protocols engaged, unlocking and unfolding the older security system and existing network for his perusal. It was only a matter of moments before he was connected to everything and better able to understand what had occurred above. Ryan had never really been good at following other people's protocols, or being surrounded by tech he wasn't allowed to actively control. If they hadn't wanted him plugging into the network and making improvements, they never should have hired him. He smiled grimly. Or maybe that was why they hired him the first place. One never knew with M. M was more than a little crazy, scarily so, or so he had been told, it had made some of her Double-O choices seem more understandable, so he was inclined to agree. He smirked as the relevant data began streaming across the small screen.

It appeared that the explosion had taken out M's main office floor, and had taken out most of Q branch's more vulnerable areas, in order to cripple their defenses and create a leak through which they could worm their way into their systems. While saddened at the loss of life, Ryan was satisfied that his improvements to the security system had not been in vain. Otherwise, they would have all been fucked by now.

With that cheery thought, Ryan reset the system with a swipe of his thumb, and engaged the necessary programming to begin to back tracking the signal to the source as, he made his way deeper into Q branch to assess the damage. As the main entrance to the inner sanctum of Q branch came into view, Ryan unconsciously straightened his shoulders and lengthened his stride, as he absent mindedly reached up and brushed bits of plaster out of his hair.

As he walked through the double doors and into the heart of Q branch, he was glad to see that none of the main agents had been severely injured, beyond a few scorch marks or minor burns, although the overall sense of chaos was troubling...and irritating.

"Enough." His voice carried easily over the general din, bringing the movement and voices to a satisfyingly abrupt halt. "That. Is. Quite. Enough." he demanded. "Don't you think?" he asked archly. He scanned the room, starring down those who met his eyes.

As one of the nearby agents, whose name Ryan had not yet bothered to learn, opened his mouth to comment, Ryan continued, "Where are Q and R?"

The agent's mouth closed with a soft click.

Silence fell, as slowly eyes were cast up first to the ceiling, as if they could see though to the stories above, before sinking slowly to stare unblinkingly at the floor. It was enough for the obvious conclusion to be reached. Wonderful, Ryan thought tiredly, as an agent coughed uncomfortably. He worked hard, squashing the momentary wave of hysteria that wanted to consume him, thinking of what would have to happen next, just wonderful.

"I see." Ryan finally stated quietly, burying the hurt, anger, _devastation_ deep and locking it into a dark corner of his mind to be felt later, much later, when he was alone and had the luxury of it. And could cry and fall apart and not have to worry about what this all means to him. To his future, to his heart. But now was not that time. His hand shook before steadying quietly at his side.

He watched them solemnly for a moment, soaking in their confusion and the faint threads of fear, before pushing it all aside, "Well, we still have a job to do." He reminded them, tonelessly. He waits, watching for the moment that it happens, when they all look at him and ask themselves if they can follow him, if they should listen, never mind that this is his place. That with R and Q, God, _ Q_ gone, they are _his_.

They jump as the previously dead monitors powered up suddenly around them, screens and lights slowly flickering on. "I suggest you get to it." His tone leaves no room for argument.

He confidently brings up the small tablet, flicking his fingers agilely across the screen. Assignments and data streams began popping up on nearby terminals, as bits of data and code began to stream across the larger monitors.

The television in the corner clicked on, as power was fully restored, volume off, but showing the turmoil on the street above. "We have a lot to do." he states quietly, almost to himself, eyes fixed momentarily on the broadcast images.

Slipping the small device into his pocket, Ryan strode down the short steps and toward the central bank of computers, Q's former home base, now apparently his. The agents parted in his wake, the majority deftly returning to their stations and beginning work on their assignments. Smart of them. Others continued to stare deftly still clearly in a state of shock. They clearly needed more veterans in the department, Ryan thought tiredly.

"Who the hell are you?" asked one of the agents, oh look the same idiot as last time, Ryan thought with a mental eye roll as he came to a sudden stop as eyes darted up to take in the spectacle. Finally found his voice apparently- what a pity. Must be a newbie to the branch, Ryan mused idly. He hadn't been keeping track. Not really his area. New minions were always _such_ a pain, especially when they weren't broken in by, well…it didn't matter now, did it? Time to get back into the game, his programs couldn't run themselves forever.

Ryan turned round slowly, taking time to lock eyes with the agent, "I'm your new Quartermaster." The 'idiot' went unsaid, but not unheard. "Now. Get. To. Work." He clipped out, patience fraying. With that he continued on his way, striding up to the central terminal and beginning to dive into the code that was laying itself out before his eyes. At the lack of movement coming from behind him, he slid one hand from the keyboard, eyes still locked on the screens before him. Reaching behind him, he deftly pulled the gun from the back of his trousers; bring it to rest calmly, deliberate at his side.

_Click._ He casually disengaged the safety with a flick of his thumb, the sound seemed to echo through the room. "If you'd rather…" the newly promoted Q queried icily. The bustle behind him was most satisfactory, he thought, as he neatly set the weapon down next to the keyboard. It was time to get started.

A.N. I have no idea what name Q would have gone by before becoming Q. 'Ryan' seemed as good a pick as any at the time. I apologize for any and all errors in this piece. This was mostly a short writing exercise to get the fanfiction-writing muscles working again that I thought others might enjoy, so any editing was minimal and cursory at best.


	2. Without Introduction

A.N. This is part two in my series Becoming Q. It is the second stand-alone/prologue to part three which will begin and continue on in the following chapters.

Summary: Q meets with M for the first time as Q. Officially, at least. It could have been considered an interview, a test of his mettle, but, well...they both know he isn't going anywhere.

Without Introduction

by Midnight12reader

"You truly are a marvel." M's sarcastic retort hung in the air as she took a seat behind her large desk. Q sat before her in one of two rather uncomfortable armchairs. "And a problem." She picked up a folder, tossing it in front of Q with a dull thump. The picture clipped to the outside was one of his better ones, he had to admit. Then again, he had made sure of it. First impressions were always important after all, even if they were on paper.

A small plume of dust had shot into the air as the folder made contact with the desk surface. Dust motes hung in the air, making the small, temporary office seem cozier than it really was. It was outwardly unaffected by the blast, but small touches could be seen here or there. Books sitting just not-so in the large bookshelf behind him. The dust and plaster that hadn't been wiped away. Not to mention the small stain in the far corner that Q was hoping was something other than an unpleasant bodily fluid. His nose wrinkled slightly at the thought. Standards were slipping.

They stared at each other, taking each other's measure. Q sat calmly, waiting for M to get to the point. They both knew why he was here...and that he wasn't going anywhere. He may not have known M, but he knew enough of her to know that. He was a prized asset after all. The chip in his arm was proof enough of that. Not that he was supposed to know about it. If they were going to get rid of him, well, he knew it wouldn't ever be with a pink slip.

Q shifted minutely, before stilling with a confident smirk, leaning back and propping an elbow on the seat's armrest. He wondered if M was going to be much longer, all the drama was becoming more than a little tedious. And he didn't want to leave the minions on their own for too long. They might start getting _ideas._ He watched idly as M paused, rising to stand and gaze out the bullet proof windows.

"Your actions, if one were to interpret them in a certain light, could even be called treasonous." M stated, turning around and piercing Q with a hawk-like stare.

The words hung in the air between them for a moment before Q merely raised an eyebrow, face cloaked in boredom.

M snorted softly. "Why am I not surprised?" A flash of longing, almost wistfulness, seemed to pass over her face.

"It was, after all, why you hired me, ma'am...If I'm not mistaken." Q spoke dryly.

"Well, it was a momentary lapse of judgment that can yet be corrected." M threw out as she reached out and picked up a discarded glass of scotch from the corner of her desk. She moved slowly across the room to a nearby couch, sinking into the couch cushions with a sigh and a muffled cough as the dust that had settled was disrupted. She waved a hand idly in the air, a faint twinkle of mischief in her eye. "If need be, of course." She relaxed slowly into the cushions, expression warming slightly.

Q huffed, conveying his amusement with a small upward tick of his lips.

"How do things stand?" M finally demanded, getting down to business.

Q straightened slightly in his seat. "Not as bad as previously expected." He began.

"Not bad!" M protested sharply.

"You should have let me update things sooner." Q defended calmly, icily, "Instead of giving me the run around and sloppy seconds on the mainframe." He thought back over the last few days, of the friends, well...co-workers that were now gone, and of the craziness that had become his life. He was, or at least had been in the process of being, groomed for this position, he knew that. It was why he was able to step up now. That and his inherent skills. He just...it was too soon. _Q._ His hands shook slightly.

"If they had been in place..." Q finally ground out.

"But they weren't." M stated, voice final. "Now get over it." She said briskly, clearing her throat. "We have bigger things to deal with at the moment." She paused expectantly.

"Their hacker was good... very good." Q finally admitted, although begrudgingly. "They got into the system through a back door in one of the older systems." He paused...waiting. M waved a hand impatiently, her expression stating that his point has been well made and that he best move on. He smiled grimly, before continuing, "They didn't get much. Nothing beyond a Level 3 clearance, disregarding the attention paid to your office. It was mostly showmanship. A 'look what I can do' maneuver. Amateurs." He scoffed, before the look on M's face gave him pause.

What...Oh. A bit not good then. The agents, right...well. "The list is out there, and obviously decoded. Nothing can be done about that from my end of things." He threw a pointed look at the agent outside. "Not really my area anymore."

"And Q Branch?" M asked dryly.

"Functional." Q responded, voice just as dry. "Nothing I can't deal with, of course."

"Of course." M echoed, smiling faintly. They sat for a moment in comfortable silence.

"We'll be moving to another facility" M finally stated, "Pack your bags." Another facility? Which...no. Oh, no. That just wouldn't do.

Q's forehead wrinkled in disdain. "You must be joking."

"I don't joke." M stated, raising and quietly draining the tumbler of scotch.

"It's a relic." Q pointed out, shuddering faintly at the thought of being cooped up there. "It would take more work to drag it into the 21st century then to simply upgrade the system here." He protested.

"It's been decided." M rose, setting the tumbler aside with a quiet click of glass on wood. Her expression told him arguing would be futile. Wonderful, he thought. Just wonderful. Ten to one they ended up in some rat infested shafted to the basement. He smoothed his face of all expression.

Q stood gracefully. "M."

"Q." M moved to retake her seat behind her desk, deftly disengaging the security measure with a push of a button. Q walked towards the door, waiting as it swung open. "Be sure to reacquaint yourself with the Double O's." She reminded him absently, reaching to pick up her glasses and sliding them on, peering over them at his back.

Q paused in the open doorway, taking a moment to look back. "Oh, I think I can manage." He smirked coldly before gliding out the door and letting it swing shut quietly behind him. He strolled down the hallway, taking out his tablet as he went. He chuckled quietly to himself. This was going to be fun...at least for him.


	3. Never Did Run Smooth

A.N. This is the third installment in my series Becoming Q.

Summary:

As Q's head slammed into the side of the table, the only thing he saw, other than stars, was Bond coming at him like the wrath of God.

The story of a relationship built on shattered illusions and new beginnings.

Never Did Run Smooth

by Midnight12reader

Chapter 1: Prologue-Freefall

Chapter Text

Prologue:

As Q's head slammed into the side of the table, the only thing he saw, other than stars, was Bond coming at him like the wrath of God. It was at that point that he somewhat hysterically began to reconsidered M's offer to stay on as Q. It wasn't often that a Q was given the option of retirement, outside of well, "retirement", but apparently good old M hadn't been read in yet on his full background or the far more likely scenario...knew Q was just dumb enough to turn him down. As his body started it's inelegant tumble to the ground, he determined to be less dumb in future. There was apparently too much stupidity going around as it was...no need to add to it. He snorted as he sat on the ground, momentarily dazed.

He shook his head, pulling himself up with a shaky hand grasping the edge of his desk, as 006 shoved Bond back a few steps. His head began to throb as blood began to slowly trickle down the side of his face from a small gash above his eye. He reached up tiredly, dabbing at the small cut with two fingers. He stared at his blood stained fingers as he rubbed the now sticky fingers together slightly. He laughed mirthlessly as he leaned back on the desk, carelessly smearing the glass surface with blood. He watched as Bond continued to half heartedly struggle with 006 in an attempt to reach him. Tiring of the sight, he calmly reached over and picked up the old-fashioned letter opener from it's place among a cupful of pens. Sentiment did have it's uses, it seemed. A quick twist of the wrist had it sailing smoothly through the air.

He wasn't surprised that even distracted by Bond, 006 was able to snatch it out of the air before it fully reached it's intended target and caused too much damage. But that didn't stop the small surge of satisfaction he felt as saw Bond's blood staining the tip of the silver blade in 006's grip.

"Getting old, Bond." He tisked softly, turning back to his terminal, confident in 006's ability to handle the older agent...to a point.

He pulled the Walther PPK out from the concealed compartment under his desk, the sound of the draw seeming to echo in the silence that had fallen over the branch at the start of yet another confrontation with Bond. It had gone on long enough. It all had. He was pleased to see that one minion at least had been smart enough to call security, useless as they would be against a Double-0. R at least, had been smart enough to call for back up, he was sure. And that surety was quickly rewarded, he smirked as heard Eve's distinctive gait as she stepped through the double doors and into Q Branch. Shaking his head, he turned around to finish dealing with Bond.

Leveling his gun at the out of control agent, face expressionless, he was sure he made quite the welcome.

"And how are you this fine day, Ms. Moneypenny?" he asked politely, gun raised. Bond had stilled at the sight of the gun, hand going to his own, before falling as Q's hand tightened threateningly on the grip of his own. "Pleasant, I hope?" he continued, cocking his head slightly as he assessed Bond for any further movement.

Eve arched an eyebrow, "Better than yours from the look of it." She looked back and forth between the two men, and around at the spectators. She casually dismissed 006 with a discrete nod. 006 left without a backwards glance.

"Oh, mine is about to get a lot better." Q assured her. His finger caressed the trigger. He was tempted, oh, so tempted.

"I don't know if that is going to help." Eve offered idly, "I tried it. And while it did feel good at the time," Eve smirked, "it unfortunately doesn't seem to take for very long." she replied, motioning to the older agent with a wave of her arm. "Now, let's-"

"What do you do with a stray dog, Ms. Moneypenny, that bites the hand that feeds it?" Q interrupted, cocking his head questioningly. "I tried, oh, have I tried, for _ her_ sake, if nothing else. But I am just about done. For I am running out of ideas... and more importantly...patience." He finished, bitingly.

"Don't move." he ground out as Bond began to edge closer, face a mask of righteous indignation. "If YOU would just-" he began, cuttingly.

"YOU blew my cover!" Bond roared, stalking back and forth. "Damn incompetent..." he grumbled loudly.

"Incompetent!" Q roared back, bringing the gun down, afraid he might actually pull the trigger on the infuriating idiot, "You're the one who tried to sleep with the man's PA! After I specifically told you not to!"

"I know what I'm doing." Bond scoffed infuriatingly. "I don't need some spotted-"

"She was a plant!," Q interrupted impatiently, tired of the whole song and dance from the agent, "One we knew about...and could have used. And despite the powers that your cock has on women, apparently it isn't strong enough to turn a gay woman straight. Get over it, Bond, you blew it. Are you even surprised at this point?" he asked sarcastically, ignoring the faint flinch that Bond quickly worked to cover. He was done pussy footing around.

He shot a cool glance up and down the agent, taking in what three months of botched and sloppy missions had wrought, far from impressed. "Because I'm not." He caught and held the older agent's eye, not hiding the disgust and disappointment he knew would be reflected there, knowing the truth would strike sharper and deeper than the blade of a mere letter opener. The older agent's eyes flickered briefly with emotion. He was too tired to care which one. He waited, the silence trickling along, until Bond finally looked away.

Q turned tiredly back to his desk, a hand reaching out to stabilize himself as he wavered slightly, smudging the glass top further. He placed the gun on the desk with a quiet click, before speaking hollowly to the man behind him, "Get out." He leaned on the desks with both hands, fitting down a passing wave of nausea as his vision swam, "Go to medical. Or go home. I don't rightly care where at this point. Just get out."

As Bond's steps faded away behind him, Q reached out a hand, slowly pulling his chair back around and gingerly taking a seat. He leaned forward, flicking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose, willing the rising pain to a dull roar in the back of his head. As Eve stepped up behind him, he sighed.

"I'll fix it." He stated wearily.

"And what if you can't?" Eve asked practically.

He shoved the Walther back into place and combed his hair back with his fingers. "I'll fix it."

Eve sighed. "Q," She began, "you..."

"I'll fix it." He stated resolutely. He deftly slipped his glasses back on. "Now get on with you, I've got things to do." He smiled faintly, "Minions to manage...dogs to train..."

"Just don't shoot him." Eve ordered sternly over her shoulder as she turned to leave, before smiling slightly and temporizing. "At least not here, the paperwork, you know."

"No promises!" Q called out sharply as the doors closed behind her. "R." He stated quietly, smiling grimly as she stepped up beside him a heartbeat later, "We have some work to do. Let's get started."


End file.
